


Payments

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [22]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, Entertainment Weekly, Established Relationship, Flirting, Jealous Jensen Ackles, Love, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, post EW Flordia photoshoot, real world concepts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: Jensen can get a little jealous sometimes, so Misha needs to show Jensen just how big of an idiot he is.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Misha Collins/Vicki Vantoch
Series: Copious Cockles [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/188132
Comments: 20
Kudos: 177





	Payments

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a couple asks that have been sitting in my inbox. One was requesting a fic about the photoshoot the guys did for EW at the end of last year, and the other was requesting jealous Jensen. I combined the two and came up with this. 
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

* * *

If there was a way to, _he’d mark him._

He’d tattoo “Mine” on his forehead or pay someone to follow the guy around with a flashing neon sign that says “HANDS OFF!”

He has the ring, but he doesn’t wear it all the time. Neither of them can commit to jewelry 24/7 thanks to their job; but Jensen has a feeling that even if Misha _always_ had the ring on, it wouldn’t stop others from feeling like they had the right to touch him.

Jensen sighs. He knows it’s not like anyone is coming up and mounting the fucker. The random person on the street is not forcing kisses on him or trying to hold his hand; but in a way, it’d almost be better if they were, because then Jensen could justify punching them in the face like he wants to every time he sees foreign fingers connect with that deeply familiar skin. No—usually it’s just someone’s hand stilling too long on Misha’s shoulder, or a person standing a little too close to his side. Some women think it’s okay to hug him or lean on him, and certain guys who aren’t all wound up in being _dude-bros_ , will even wrap their arm around Misha’s neck in a half hug, jostling him and twisting him from side to side, and it drives Jensen absolutely up the wall! Because … _he’s_ the only dude-bro dumbass that gets to do that!

Misha disapproves of Jensen referring to himself in that way. “You’re much too sensitive to be a dude-bro, Jensen.”

But Jensen just argues that all dude-bros are closet softies.

That will usually launch them into some heated debate about who knows Jensen better— _Jensen himself_ , or Misha; but then Misha will almost always end up fingering Jensen open, strumming his every chord and playing him like a moaning messy guitar … which tends to win him the argument.

In any case—that usual descent into sex that is both hot while still being so intensely intimate, causes Jensen to panic whenever someone else touches the man, since maybe— _just maybe_ , they’ll find a scrap of that intimacy too, and that intimacy belongs to Jensen.

_It’s his._

It will always be his. It’s been his for the last ten years and he’ll be damned if anyone tries to claim it for themselves.

But then there’s _David_...

And as of today, David is now Jensen’s arch nemesis … if actual, real-life people _had_ arch nemeses.

David is one of Entertainment Weekly’s wardrobe staff. He has been their remote location wardrobe guy since Jensen was on _Days of Our Lives._ Jensen has known him longer than he’s known Misha or Jared, or even Danneel—which means, he has known David’s _hands_ longer too. David is a nice enough dude, and he supposes, _touching_ is part of his job. The man dresses and undresses people for a living … and _okay,_ that sounds much creepier than it is, but it’s the truth if you don’t look at it like a pervert. The problem is though, ever since Misha came along, Jensen can’t help but look at it that way.

David has always been a bit more touchy-feely than is probably necessary; but again, it’s never anything inappropriate. The man is very flamboyantly gay, and very comfortable with himself and seemingly, _everyone else_ who gets in front of him to be dressed; so, he’s always leaning on or patting, or squeezing shoulders and arms. He stands really close and hugs often. It threw Jensen off at first, but he quickly got used to it—just as he got used to so many things as he started ramping up in Hollywood. It was awkward, and then it was fine, and then it wasn’t even something he thought about anymore. It was just _David_ , and David was a cool guy.

But then David became _the cool guy who dressed Misha_. He became the cool guy who made Misha laugh while Misha’s shirt was off. He became that cool guy who turned a shirtless Misha around, looked him up and down, dragged a loose hand over Misha’s chest before humming approvingly.

The first time it happened nearly a decade ago, Jensen didn’t understand why his mood did a sudden 180. He went from _happy_ and joking around with his buddies while waiting for their photoshoot to begin, to super irritated—and all he knew was that something flipped right around the time David was measuring Misha’s inseam.

 _Now_ of course, ten years in with ten years of memories under his belt— memories of Misha _undoing_ his belt, memories of Misha undoing _lots_ of things, Jensen understands that he was jealous. David was getting to touch the man in a way that Jensen wasn’t able to; a way that he thought would be impossible. And it _was_ impossible … until Misha drunkenly admitted one late night after filming that he missed the way a cock felt in his mouth; which led to him confessing that he used to be quite the _man’s-man_ in college, much to Vicki’s glee (it’s her kink … and coincidentally, Danneel’s kink too). So, being the great friend that he is, Jensen offered to help the guy out; but in actuality, they both got _helped_ in the end.

Those memories mixed with emotions that built and warmed and rose over time, now sit like a warm loaf of bread in his chest, and the delicious softness fills him up and makes him hum in contentment even when things around him are less than appetizing. He knows that thanks to his wife, his kids, his friends and _Misha_ —he’s lightened up a lot these past few years; but it’s times like these where he can’t help but revert back to that same old bitter, guarded dickhead that made him tap into Dean’s wallowing and angst so well.

“Alright, sweetie. Spread ‘em wide for me.” David gives Misha a wink, and Misha licks his lips suggestively, probably knowing that if David wants to challenge him to see _who_ can make _who_ blush first, _he’ll win._ He spreads his legs as David bends down, checking to make sure he fit the crotch of Misha’s pants correctly.

Jensen’s jaw clenches as Misha wriggles his hips in front of David’s face.

David laughs and fakes a swat at Misha’s nuts.

Misha laughs too as he jumps backwards; but then he’s thrusting forward again, and David purses his lips and waggles his eyebrows—and Jensen accidentally breaks his favorite pair of sunglasses as he fists them in his hand.

Neither Misha nor David notice though. “Fuck” he mutters, looking down at the cracked lens and broken nose piece.

“What’s that?” Misha asks, and Jensen looks up to find Misha’s eyes on him. David is back at work pinning the hem of Misha’s pant leg, seeming nothing but professional now—as if the two _weren’t_ just acting out the intro to a porn two seconds ago.

“Huh? Uh—nothing” Jensen says, putting his sunglasses on the counter beside him while feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment crawl up his spine.

“Oh, no … _Mish Mash!_ What did you do to your neck?”

Jensen grimaces at David’s _horrible_ nickname for Misha—coined some time ago thanks to a Gishwhes team-name that Misha was particularly fond of one year. He had shown David some of the team’s submissions, and David has called Misha that ever since. But Jensen is soon smiling wickedly once he sees that David is standing back up to point out the hickey that Jensen had left on Misha’s neck the night before. Part of him hopes Misha will tell him the truth of how it got there—tell him that the mark was _Jensen’s_ doing, and Jensen is the only guy on earth who gets to bruise him up like that.

“Oh … curling iron accident. These luscious locks don’t wave like this on their own” Misha deadpans, running a hand through his hair before pretending to throw long curls over his shoulder.

“Mhm, _sure_ sweetness. I know a hickey when I see one. Someone’s been _all over_ you, and I can’t lie, I’m a little jealous.”

Misha grins again, puckering his lips and kissing the air in an exaggerated flirt. “Don’t be jealous Davie-wavie. You know I only got eyes for _you.”_

“Are you almost done?” Jensen roars before he can stop himself.

Both Misha and David freeze, heads snapping towards the other end of the wardrobe trailer where Jensen has been sitting. “Uh—yeah, just about” David says, a tiny shake to his voice.

Jensen immediately feels like shit. “I _mean—sorry,_ I just … um …”

“Jesus, Jensen. If you’re _that_ bored, you can go do something else. I’m sure Jared is nearly done in hair and make-up by now” Misha offers, sounding less than sure because everyone within a mile radius knows that Jared takes longer in hair and make-up than anyone ever has in the history of show business.

“ _I’m not bored_ ” Jensen mutters pathetically, pulling out his phone a second later to try and distract himself.

“Hungry then? Tired? We _did_ stay up rather late last night” Misha says, surly sounding innocent to David, but Jensen can hear the heat behind his words.

“I’m _fine”_ he insists, but he can see both Misha and David glance at each other from the corner of his eye, trading knowing looks that do nothing but irritate him more. “Whatever” Jensen grumbles under his breath as he sets his eyes on Instagram, reflexively clicking on Misha’s profile and scrolling through all his posts—wishing more than anything for David to be done and gone so that he can cover Misha in even more hickeys.

David says something else that Jensen doesn’t catch, but when he looks up from his phone, the guy is standing closely behind Misha, tugging at the back of his pants and exposing just a glimpse of Misha’s orange underwear. “I usually _hate_ orange, but on _you_ …” David purrs into Misha's ear.

Jensen quickly forgets about Instagram, unable to keep his eyes anywhere but on David, glaring at him like a gator glares at a deer, hoping that the guy will finally take the hint and take his fucking hands off his man.

***

“What the hell was wrong with you?”

The hotel door shuts behind them but Misha doesn’t move beyond it—instead, choosing to stand there, arms folded as he glares Jensen down; but Jensen just shuffles over to the couch and collapses onto it's soft cushions.

“Seriously, Jensen … like, you seemed better at the shoot, but in wardrobe? First, you yelled at David, asking if he was done, and then you quite literally _growled_ as he adjusted my belt, and then when he was testing out that jacket, you pushed him aside and put it on me yourself! Like, Jesus Christ, I know you like to dress me an all, but it’s _his job_ , and he obviously knows what he’s doing. _You_ looked hot as fuck today!”

Jensen has since flopped to lay his head on the armrest, groaning at himself as he rolls his eyes closed. “I wasn’t … _jeez._ I mean, I didn’t want to fuckin’ _dress_ you myself or anything.”

Misha saunters over and shoves Jensen’s legs off so he can sit down too, and it counters his weight enough that Jensen is forced to sit back up. “Then _what?_ Why were you acting like such an ass? Well—an ass, then a big ol’ sap during the photoshoot.”

“I wasn’t a sap” Jensen huffs, knowing that he _totally was._

 _“Yeah—sure._ So, you just made me cry for no reason then? With your hugs and cheek kisses, and sweet words when no one was looking because they were shooting Jared?”

“Maybe _you’re_ the sap” Jensen snorts, elbowing Misha in the ribs softly.

“That’s been established—but _you’re_ not usually that way when working. What’s your deal?”

Jensen groans, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“ _Jensen?_ ”

Another groan.

Misha pushes him down, climbing on top of him and half straddling his body on the couch—and then, with ten years of knowledge to drive them, he launches his fingers like missiles, starting a tickle-attack that will surely go down in history.

Jensen is soon wheezing so hard, his head starts to throb, and he quickly writhes and jerks his body right off the couch, but Misha is still on him, tickling every vulnerable inch of skin he has.

“Tell me!” Misha rumbles, struggling to stay mounted on Jensen-the-raging-bull.

“Fuck! Fucking—sto—stop! Oh fuck! STOP! Shit! F-fine! It’s—it’s David! I was an ass because of David!”

Misha is off him in an instant, and Jensen is gasping for breath, sprawled out and delirious on the hotel floor.

“David? What? What did he do to you?” Misha asks, slightly breathless himself as he sits back on the couch.

Jensen moans, rubbing his hands over his face, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “Nothing … it’s, it’s stupid.”

“No doubt it is, but you’re still gonna tell me” Misha states.

Jensen hates how true he knows that is, so he takes one more deep breath as he props himself up onto his elbows, sheepishly meeting Misha’s eyes. “I hate … I hate that you two flirt.”

Misha takes a moment, looking Jensen over as if he’s trying to figure out what part of their encounter _counted_ as flirting.

Jensen collapses onto the floor once again.

“Seriously? That’s what got you all riled up? Jared and I act like that—no, actually, we act _way worse_ all the time, and you never get like that. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you did. You could save me a lot of torment.”

“It’s different” Jensen mumbles, staring up at the pristine coffered ceiling of the W hotel.

“How?”

“Jared isn’t gay.”

“Uh—okay?”

“And David is.”

“Yeah … I’m aware of that.”

“So, you know … if you and Jared do your dumb flirting thing, I know it’s all joking.”

“But—since David is into men, then our flirting must be serious? Jensen, that’s the absolute dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and that’s quite a feat for you.”

“Fuck off” Jensen hisses, rolling over onto his side so he can hoist himself back up. Once on his feet, he shuffles towards the bed, wanting nothing more than to get changed, brush his teeth and then go the fuck to sleep; but Misha is tackling him from behind before he can even pull his shirt off, and they both smash into the mattress hard enough that the widows shake. “What the fuck!” Jensen yells as Misha rolls him over and pins him down.

“You’re so stupid” Misha growls.

Jensen opens his mouth to protest, but Misha covers it with his hand.

“You think that my dumb mock-flirting is somehow the same as _this?_ ” He twists Jensen’s head to the side and licks a line up his neck. “You think that my joking around with another man secretly means I want to fuck him open the same way I fuck _you?_ ” Misha allows Jensen’s head to turn back, wide green eyes, drowning in a hot blue gaze. Misha grins. “Jensen— _you fucking moron_ , how could I ever want some other man after having you?”

Jensen gives him the smallest shrug, but that only fires Misha up more.

“You absolute dumbass” Misha’s voice is vibrating through his body, seeming more _motion_ than _sound,_ and it wakes Jensen’s dick up immediately. “I have never wanted anyone the way that I want you. You are the most ridiculously beautiful asshat I have ever seen, and if you weren’t such a total fuckwad, I wouldn’t be able to comprehend how _I_ could be lucky enough to get to touch _you.”_ Misha pulls Jensen’s arms above his head and holds his wrists down with one hand, using his other to hike up Jensen's shirt and bunch it under his chin. “I love having you under me.” He bends down and kisses Jensen’s collarbone. “I love feeling you cock in my mouth.” He moves from side to side, sucking and biting each one of Jensen’s nipples, making him moan and gasp and arch against the bed. “But most of all, I fucking love _you._ I love you and every idiot-thought that pops into that brilliant head of yours; and there is not another man alive that could make me feel the way _you_ make me feel.” Misha’s breath is hot against Jensen’s skin, and his words warm him from his dick to his heart, and he wants to hug him and fuck him at the same time.

Jensen’s really hoping that this is headed in that direction. “I—I—”

“ _No, no_ … the idiot doesn’t get to talk” Misha says shortly, hauling himself back up Jensen's body so he can rut their dicks together. Jensen moans into Misha’s mouth as he kisses him. “And if I _do_ decide to let you talk, it’ll be to call David and apologize to him while I fuck you from behind.”

Jensen nods quickly, knowing that that should sound humiliating, but right now, it just sounds really fucking hot.

“Oh, you _want_ me to fuck you from behind?” Misha purrs, looking over Jensen’s face with an insane mix of love and lust.

Jensen bites him lip, knowing from years of experience that this is a trick—a trick to get him to speak, to break Misha’s rules, which will only lead to the punishment of _not_ getting fucked, just _almost_ fucked for hours until he’s quite literally crying and begging for it. His stubbornness has given him the bluest balls known to man on more than one occasion, but Jensen _is_ capable of learning his lesson every now and then. He stays silent.

Misha narrows his eyes and growls, but there’s a slight smirk on his face that let’s Jensen know—he’s going to be punished either way. “No? _Fine_ … I guess I won’t fuck you. I’ll just go back to my room and go to sleep; but I’ll make sure to tie your hands to the bed first so you can’t whack off while I’m gone.”

Jensen gasps, remembering that night in Rome when Misha did exactly that. As punishment for getting _way_ _too_ drunk and flashing Misha on stage, he tied Jensen up, fingered him open, pressed just the tip of his cock in before pulling it out again, and then backing away to go stroke himself in the chair across the room—making Jensen watch but not letting him finish. Afterwards, Misha fell asleep, leaving Jensen tied up and leaking beside him. It was painful, and sexy as hell, and Jensen was still incredibly hard the next morning; but thankfully, Misha finally took pity on him and slid onto his dick, riding him until they were both coming and moaning in the golden morning sun.

“So, what’ll it be, Jensen?” Am I fucking you, or _not_ fucking you?”

They stare at one another—Misha, daring Jensen to play this unwinnable game, and Jensen, knowing deep down that he’s already won no matter what.

“Please …” Jensen grits, cock already twitching as he begins to play his role, “please fuck me, sir.”

Misha’s eyes close a moment, and Jensen’s mouth quirks at the corners, because he loves how much his submission of power makes Misha melt.

“Fuck—I can’t believe how ridiculous you are. Knowing what you do to me, and then still thinking that I could possibly want this with someone else? You’re lucky you’re beautiful.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, because he knows that only a _true genius_ could get Misha Collins into bed like this, so his being marginally attractive has _nothing_ to do with it.

“Did you—did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Jensen’s heart stutters. He focuses back on Misha who has switched into complete Dom-mode now, and Jensen wonders if he’ll survive it this time.

Misha rears up, letting Jensen go for the first time since he tackled him. “Take off your shirt.”

Jensen sits up too and complies instantly.

_“Pants.”_

Jensen pulls his jeans off so fast, he’s thinks he might’ve ripped them, but he really doesn’t care right now.

“Boxers too” Misha commands, his voice so calm, so deep and rasped, Jensen feels light headed just from listening to it.

He pulls off his boxers and his cock springs out, slapping against his belly and dotting it with pre-come.

Misha’s face is stoic, but Jensen can see how turned on the guy is with one simple glance at his pants. He’s still fully clothes, and Jensen nearly whines in protest, but he remembers himself—remembers he’s under orders right now, and he needs to follow those orders to the letter if he hopes to be under Misha.

“Touch yourself” Misha says, sliding off the bed to stand and watch, eventually lifting his hands to undo his own pants, but never taking his eyes off Jensen.

“Yes, sir” Jensen breathes, quickly taking his cock in his fist and stroking it slowly. “Like that, sir?”

Misha begins to stroke himself as well, but his movements are still concealed by denim. _“Faster.”_

As Jensen speeds up, so does Misha—and he looks so debauched, so wild, with his messy hair and bitten pink lips, Jensen feels the coils in his stomach already begin to tighten. He wanted to come with Misha inside him, but he doesn’t think he’ll make it at this point.

“Faster!” Misha barks, following his own orders as he glares at Jensen—naked and wringing himself out on the bed.

The heat boils up with his hands, and with only a few more strokes, Jensen is coming all over his own stomach. Sparks and flashes blur his vision, but between them he sees Misha pull off his pants and crawl back over him, swiping a hand over Jensen's sticky stomach and slicking his own cock up with Jensen’s come.

“Fuck, Jensen—you are so …” Misha shoves Jensen’s legs apart and presses his tip into Jensen's ass, slow at first, inching him open little by little, allowing Jensen’s body to get used to him again.

Jensen gasps, his back arching as Misha begins to fill him up.

 _“Jesus_ … you are so fucking beautiful” Misha moans, finally bottoming out inside him, pressing his tip against Jensen's prostate.

Jensen cries out, knowing he’s spent, but his body tingles again with the echoes of his release.

“Do you still want me to fuck you, Jensen?” Misha says, collecting himself enough to lean forward and stare Jensen in the eye.

Jensen’s mind is hazy with _want_ and _love,_ and the need for this _not_ to be over. He nods. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Beg me for it.”

“P-please! Please fuck me, sir!”

“I want the people in the next room to hear you. Use my name. _Beg me!_ ”

“Please, Misha! I need you to fuck me, Mish! Please!”

Misha’s mouth falls open as he pulls out, eyes closing as Jensen squeezes around him—desperately trying to keep him in. “ _God,_ I love you” he whispers, before hammering down into Jensen's body, hard and fast, both punishing and praising, viscous and victorious, and Jensen can’t stop himself from pushing himself up to catch Misha’s lip in his teeth, sucking it in until they’re deep in a kiss, tongues clashing as they clash; and thankfully, Misha doesn’t seem to mind this break in ranks.

“Shit … Jensen …”

Jensen’s skin still sings with every thrust, but the scales have tilted since he came, and he knows, Misha is quickly losing his hold on command. “ _Fill me up, Mish_. Please, sir. Come in me. Come on. _I need it._ Misha, I need _you.”_

Misha’s hips stutter on the next few thrusts, neck reddening as he holds his breath, and Jensen thinks he could almost come again just by watching _Misha_ come. The man gasps as he drills into Jensen one more time, hitting him in just the right place that Jensen has to fall back against the sheets, seeing stars as his own cock leaks a little more, vibrating as Misha releases in slow, hot bursts. “ _Fucking hell_ ” Misha wheezes, collapsing onto Jensen’s chest as if all his bones suddenly melted.

Jensen’s arms wrap around him instantly, like it's his action-figure move and Misha had pressed his button. He leaves a kiss in Misha’s hair and whispers “I love you” against his scalp.

“I love you more” Misha garbles, words muffled by Jensen’s skin.

Jensen can’t help but chuckle.

“I love you so damn much” Misha says, craning his head up and wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth. Jensen laughs even harder at that. “I love you in spite of all your idiocy. In spite of your uncalled for jealously, and in spite of your ability to drive me absolutely insane.”

“It’s a wonder you love me at all” Jensen rasps with a grin, his throat feeling raw from the day, as well as all the yelling he just did.

“No … it’s a wonder how you could think I _could possibly_ love anyone else the way that I love you.”

“Vicki?”

“Okay, _fine_ … the way that I love Vicki _and_ you. Better?”

Jensen huffs approvingly and nods.

“But you really have to be out of your God damn mind if you think that any dumb joke I make with David, or anyone else could compare to _this!_ ” He gestures across Jensen’s chest before kissing a particularly dense cluster of freckles above his belly button. “I know how lucky I am to have you, Jensen. Don’t you ever doubt that."

 _“I’m_ the lucky one” Jensen says, absent-mindedly running his hand through Misha’s hair as he relaxes back into the bed. “That’s why I get jealous. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re _hot as hell_ , and for some fucking reason, you want to be here with me… _like this_.” He mocks Misha’s gesture, and Misha swats at his hand—finally pulling his cock out of him fast, knowing it’ll make Jensen gasp.

Jensen spasms a moment, feeling like Misha’s cock is turning him inside out. “Fuck, dude!”

“ _Again?_ I’m sorry, babe. I can’t. You wrung me out” Misha stutters, trying to sound cocky, but his rapid movements obviously shocked _his_ system as well.

Jensen smirks as he catches his breath. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“And I fucking _love_ you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I kinda love David too.”

Jensen’s eyes narrow on him.

Misha’s eyes shine with malice. “Do you think he’d want to join us sometime? I promise to pay equal attention to both of you.”

Jensen reaches behind himself and grabs one of the dense pillows off the head of the bed, wheeling it around and smacking Misha in the face so hard, it sends him careening off the bed, hitting the floor with a raucous _thud._

Misha curses and Jensen laughs—knowing that he’ll be paying for that later ... _also knowing_ that he won’t mind paying every day for the rest of his life.


End file.
